|THE BRITISH WORKMAN'S GRAVE
They are shifting Daddy's bones to
build a sewer.
They are shifting them regardless
They are shifting his remains
Just to lay down shit house drains
To satisfy the local residents.
Now what's the use of having a
If after death your troubles never
Just 'cause some high society twit
Wants a pipeline for his switch
They won't let poor old daddy rest
Ah, but dad in all his life was
ne'er a quitter.
And I don't think he will be a
No, he'll dress up in his sheet
And he'll haunt that shit-house seat
And only let them in when he'll
Oh, now won't there be some pains
And won't those high born buggers
shout and writhe!
But they'll get what they deserve
For they had the bloody nerve
To desecrate a British workman's
I DON'T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER
I don't want to be a soldier
I don't want to go to war.
I would rather hang around
And live upon the earnings of a
high born lady.
I don't want a bullet up me arse
Nor want me bloomin' buttocks shot
No, I'd rather stay in England,
jolly, jolly England,
And fornicate me bloomin' life
away, Gor blimey.
|Call out the army and the navy,
Call out the rank and file,
Call out the brave territorials,
They face danger with a smile,
Call out the members of the old
They made England free.
You can take me mother,
Me sister or me brother,
But for Christ's sake
DON'T TAKE ME!
THREE AGENTS OF THE POUM
We are three agents of the POUM, POUM,
We lead the workers to their doom,
We don't give a rap
For Stalin's crap
We are three agents of the POUM!
Corruption! Disruption! Deviation!
I'M AN OLD EXILE
I'm an old exile, lost my rank and
I'm a CP foe bound for Mexico
Oh, the Mexican masses are yelling,
Over my entry they're raising a row.
They've got too many Mexican generals
Yippee Yi O Ki Yay!